


Kill Sam

by mywishingglass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anti Bran, Anti-Arya, Anti-Sam, Anti-Sansa, Anti-Stark, Anti-Tyrion, Anti-Varys, Blessed Targcest, BlessedFic, BlessedFicWeek, Crack Fic, Dany is Beatrix Kiddo, F/M, Incest, Jon Snow is John Wick, Jon and Dany against the world, Jon and Dany are sibs, Jonerys, Kill Bill AU, Not for fans of any of the Starks INCLUDING Ned, Revenge, Seriously Stark fans just go away right now, Violence, anti game of thrones season 8, fuck D&D, incest is wincest, jon wick au, targcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-06-25 18:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywishingglass/pseuds/mywishingglass
Summary: Fifteen dead bodies on the ground. Three children. One dog. All dead.Except for two.One Pregnant Bride. One Angry Groom.~~~A Kill Bill/John Wick AU. Jon and Dany take bloody revenge and go on a murdering rampage.





	1. Prologue: The Bride and The Groom

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all,
> 
> This is dedicated to my special Jonerys friends who really want to see Sam and a lot of other characters dead. But Sam especially is hated with a vile passion. Something about pink masts, I think. 
> 
> So this is for them. This is a super crack fic not meant to be taken seriously AT ALL. If you love any of the Starks, please turn away now because if you know these movies I'm basing this on, you know who I'm making the bad guys. So, don't even come at me with any of that nonsense. 
> 
> Again, this is all in good fun so please just treat it with a good sense of humour LOL 
> 
> Also it's been a while since I watched Kill Bill and John Wick, so I will embellish and use elements from both movies as I go along. 
> 
> I suck at writing action scenes but meh you do what you gotta do.

A feigned sigh.

“Oh, J—. It didn’t have to end this way, you know. If you had just listened, none of this would have happened. If dad were alive… he would be so disappointed.”

Stiletto heels clacked on the wooden floor boards over broken glass shards, scattered bullet casings and bloodied rose petals. A swish of waist-length auburn hair brushed back over the shoulder with the end of black and grey handgun.

A bloody gurgle and the sound of pained gasping pierced the air.

Fifteen dead bodies on the ground. Three children. One dog. All dead.

Except for two.

One Pregnant Bride. One Angry Groom.

“You know.” Another voice, a deep, intellectual baritone stated, “She doesn’t have to die this way.” Leaning on an overturned barrel was a malformed yet mildly amused dwarf. In one grubby hand was a hefty semi-automatic rifle and a cigarette in the other. The words escaping from the side of his mouth along with a cloud of white smoke.

“No one has to die this way.” A young girl with dark brown hair tied up in a high ponytail added, her teeth chomping as she chewed loudly on her pink gum. She blew a nice round pink bubble which gave a quiet _pop_ as it burst.

“But this is what happens to those who think they’re the smartest fuckers on this side of the world.”

“Please… d-don’t…” A hoarse voice begged.

But the girl only smirked as she racked her shotgun. 

Bloodshot grey eyes widened, desperately scanning the room.

“Should we kill him first? Or her?” A silky voice asked. A bald-headed man wiped the edge of his jagged blade on his sleeve.

The brown-haired girl smiled, “Why not both? Together?”

The dwarf flicked his cigarette to the side, “Shame really. Killing three for the price of two.”

“J-J—…” A croaked whimper, a shaking hand atop a swollen belly, blood smeared on white chiffon.

“I’ll take her.” The first voice stated, ruby red lips smacking, “I’ll take everything from her.”

"Hold on, D--. Hold on, I--"

“Then the boy is mine.” Interrupted the dwarf as he readied his rifle.

“Make sure he actually dies this time.” Said the girl.

A muffled sob from the Bride, “M-my… my baby…. Please…”

The red-head bent down and brushed the silver hair out of the Bride’s bruised and bloodied face, “There. Let's have a look at those pretty violet eyes now, shall we?”

“I’ll k-kill you. I’ll kill all you fuckers.” A vicious threat from the Groom. But hollow. It was clear that Bride and the Groom had lost.

“You pissed off the wrong people, Snow. None of this shit would have happened if you had just kept your head down and did what you were asked to do. But you had to have balls, didn’t you?” The dwarf taunted.

“This isn’t easy for any of us, J—. In fact, I don’t believe any of us take any pleasure in doing what we just did.” The smooth voice of the bald-headed man declared as he walked towards the Groom.

The girl snorted, “Speak for yourself, Spider, I had a lot of pleasure taking those other clowns down.”

“Enough.” The redhead stated, “We end this now.”

The mouth of the handgun rested on the temple of the silver-haired Bride.

“Any last words, princess?”

The Bride shook with rage as blood trickled from her mouth, “Fuck. You. Bitch.”

The redhead grinned widely, “With that kind of mouth, you’d have made a terrible mother. Your baby should be thanking me.”

“And what about you, boy? Any last words of love for your little dragon lover over there?” The dwarf chuckled, nodding towards the silver Bride.

“Wh-Who?” A weak growl from a broken jaw.

The brown-haired girl laughed as did the bald man.

The dwarf grunted as he threw his rifle to the ground and pulled a small knife from his back pocket, leaning over the Groom prostrated on the ground, “Actually, now that I think about it. This fucker deserves a knife to the heart, don’t you think? For all the bullshit he’s caused?”

“WHO?!”

The redhead giggled in response, “Who do you think, J—?"

A shuffle of heavy feet, the smell of piss and sweat wafted through the air, tears dripping from a double chin.

“I-I’m, s-s-s-o s-s-sorry, J-J—.” A trembling snivel said, a wet blubber followed, “But she killed my little br-brother… and my d-dad.”

“Sam…?”

The brown-haired girl sighed with frustration, “Enough talking. I’m fucking starving. Let’s get this over with.”

“Goodbye, old friend.” The dwarf crooned.

Cackling laugher.

“Sam. Sam… you motherfu—”

A loud bang. A blade piercing through flesh. Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon's names are gonna be bleeped out more or less kinda like in Kill Bill but y'all know who they are.


	2. THE IMP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 1: THE IMP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Friends!
> 
> I'm baaaaaaaaacck from vacay! Woohoo! Don't worry I am still working on the next update for my Darkest Before The Dawn fic, but I did want to put out an update of this crazy crack fic that I came up with randomly over a month ago. 
> 
> A reminder that I can't write fight scenes to save my life, so you're just gonna have to imagine that an epic fight scene happened ala John Wick/Kill Bill/ your favorite action movie.
> 
> ALSO, some changes. As a contribution to #BlessedFicWeek that was started by a group of awesome Jonerys writers and friends, I am making Jon and Dany siblings in this story to fulfill the requirement of the Modern Targcest AU prompt.
> 
> I may have a special one-shot dedicated especially to that prompt, but in the meantime, this is gonna be my first entry to the foray of the Blessed Fic storm that will be coming. 
> 
> Anyway, I didn't think too hard with this chap so forgive my little mistakes and errors. Again, it's all in the name of fun.

THE GROOM

Five years had passed since the Wedding.

The Groom awoke in a padded room, gasping for breath, dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. Wires and needles stuck into different veins and arteries around his body. Machines beeping around him. He pulled his gown just far enough to see a long red scar across his chest. His deafening screams muted by the sound-proof walls.

He was still screaming when the orderlies ran inside the room.

They thought him weak – subdued by the drugs they had been pumping into his system for years and the loss of power in his muscles from being bedridden for so long.

But they were wrong.

Five years weren’t long enough to forget what happened.

He remembered.

Every, single detail of that one night.

Every, single thing that was taken from him. Including her... especially her...

He remembered _her_. 

His Bride... His wife... The mother of his unborn child...

There was blood to be spilt, and he was thirsting for it.

Three mangled, dead bodies later, the Groom crawled from the room they had kept him prisoner in for those five, long years.

The long-jagged scar across his chest, a gruesome reminder of the night that he had lost everything. But it was the one thing that reminded him of the wrongs that needed to be righted.

His broken, mangled but still beating heart only had room enough for the simplest of things. After all, they were the only things he had left and he would not rest until he had them... all of them...

Vengeance. Justice. Fire and Blood.

_It wasn’t hard to find Tyrion Lannister._

_In fact, one reason why he was the first one on my list was because that midget was so goddamn easy to find._

_The other reason was because that little shitstain was the one who stabbed me in the heart._

_If there was anyone who deserved the first taste of my vengeance, it would be this puny asshole._

_Before the fucker knifed me, I did respect his work. Even admired it._

_Tyrion Lannister's blood-soaked past as a whoremongering drunkard with a penchant for strangling his targets with a gold chain was bloody poetry. He was a pretty damn good shot and was a fucking surgeon with a crossbow, but only after he was up to his eyeballs in Arbor Gold._

_Ruthless little shit, he was. Which is how he earned his code name, THE IMP._

_He hated that fucking name. But it suited him._

_All our names did._

_Mine… was THE GHOST._

“I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

The cold steel barrel of a black handgun pressed against the back of the Imp’s Neck.

A figure clad in black removed his hood as he stood on the white carpeted floor of a large study. The receiver of the end of his gun had been lounging on his deep blue holstered armchair watching Netflix on his 120-inch flat-screen TV, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other.

The Imp blew out a cloud of smoke and chuckled, “Fuck. The Ghost certainly knows how to make an entrance. I’ve always wondered what facing down the end of your gun would be like. I thought I’d never find out. But, here we fucking are, huh?” He stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray by the side of his arm chair and set his glass aside.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Though I’m sure the answer to that is quite clear. But if all you wanted to do was kill me, you would have done that ten minutes ago. Yet here we are. So you’re here for something more. What is it?”

“Where is Sam?” The first words out of the Groom's mouth came out in a low growl.

The Imp burst out laughing but stopped as the cold gun pushed down harder against his nape.

“Sam? Samwell Tarly? I haven’t seen that fat fucker in years. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s lying six feet under by now. Gods know how many years that grease-loving cunt had left in him.”

A hand grabbed a fistful of the Lannister’s dark blonde hair and slammed it down against the back of his chair.

“Fuck!”

“Where is he?” The question came again, this time in a louder snarl.

“I don’t know.” Each word breathed out in a groan.

Then to the Groom's surprise, a short laugh emerged from the dwarf’s lips, “I must say, doing this does bring back memories of the good old days.”

The Imp grimaced as the fist holding him tightened around the roots of his hair, “Did you know that the last man who died at my hands was my own dear old father. Right after I found out that that wrinkled old fart had been fucking my wife behind my back. So, forgive me, Snow, it’s been a while since I’ve done this and I may be a little...rusty.”

A tiny glint of silver caught the Groom’s eye as a sharp pain shot up his leg, the Imp had driven a small pen knife to the side of his thigh. Before he could react and pull his trigger, the Imp had thrown his ashtray straight towards the dark-haired man’s head, blinding him with the ashes.

Everything else happened in a quick blur. A few missed shots into the wall. The gun kicked from the hand that held it. There was a shattering sound of glass as picture frames, mirrors, vases and furniture were knocked into and crashed to the floor followed by the heavy thunder of books as two ornate bookcases toppled on top of each other.

A dizzying flurry of punches and kicks followed. Fists and knees slamming into flesh and bone. Blood was everywhere, dripping from open wounds, split lips and broken noses.

The Groom growled as he grabbed the penknife that had been lodged into his leg and made an attempt to slam it into the dwarf’s chest, but it seemed the Imp was quicker on his feet as he rushed behind him.

The sound of metal rattling caused dark grey eyes to widen.

_Oh, fuck…_

The gold chains looped around the Groom's neck and wrapped around his fists to prevent him from clawing back at the Imp.

The dwarf smiled a bloody grin and croaked in his ear, The Groom groaned and gasped as the Imp pulled harder.

A hush whispered in his ear, “You’re good, Snow. Really good. But five years in a cell has slowed you down a whole damn lot. Which is a shame really. Always wanted to know what going toe to toe with the Ghost would be like and I have to say... I’m extremely disappointed.”

Legs scraped against the carpeted floor, struggling to gain ground but the Imp, for all his size, still had the strength of a small bear.

The Imp chuckled, “First thing you learned about me is that I’m the fucker who drinks and knows things… and, buddy, you caught me right when I just knocked back my fourth glass of scotch.”

Blood was rushing into the Groom's eyes as he struggled to breathe. The Imp was gloating as he held the tension in the chains.

“Actually, all of this has me thinking about my own dear dad again. Hey, wanna know how I killed that smelly old fucker? I took his favorite crossbow and shot three arrows into him while he was shitting on his golden toilet. In fact, if we had more time and if you had been less of a fucking dick, I could have let you have a go with it.”

In the corner of his grey eyes, the Groom spied the glass case upon which was the very crossbow being spoken about was hanging in.

“But, alas, our time has come to an end. If I did have the answer to your first question, I’d give it to you. It’d be like dangling a piece of meat in front of a crippled dog before putting it out of its misery. But I have no fucking clue where Samwell fucking Tarly is hiding his fat buggered ass at these days.”

The Groom felt his strength fading from his limbs and his heart was pounding furiously in his chest.

“Before you breathe your last, I will leave you with one little tidbit. Believe you me, you’ll enjoy it very much. After that, I’ll fucking kill you and this time, I’ll make sure to saw your head clean off of the rest of you. Try coming back from that, you pitiful fuck.”

Then the Imp leaned his mouth close to the Groom’s ear, whispering with a sadistic smile,

“She... is alive.”

Just then, it seemed as if all time suddenly slowed, the Groom could hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

He could see her now.

Her big, beautiful smile. Her silver hair dancing in the wind. Her bright lilac eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

He could hear her voice sweetly calling his name.

He remembered how she felt in his arms, how soft her kisses tasted, how smooth her bare skin was when he ran his hands all over her when they made love.

Then he saw her covered in blood on the floor, still in her wedding dress, her bloodied hand atop her round belly.

There was a new fire that awoke within him, a fury that trembled as it surged through his veins.

As the golden chains penetrated deeper into his skin, the Groom let out a muffled roar as he pushed himself up off the ground, taking the Imp with him and with all his might he slammed his back into the glass case, smashing it into pieces. The crossbow within clattering to the ground.

The Imp groaned in pain and when the Groom felt the hold on the chains loosen slightly, he wrested his hand from where it had been restrained and reached back to grab the dwarf by his dark blonde hair and threw him straight across the room.

The Imp’s body crashed into the flat screen tv, falling with it back to the carpeted floor, electricity buzzing as the monitor separated from the wall, wires sparking behind it.

The Groom could hear the sound of pained laughter coming from underneath the broken screen.

“F-fuck… me…” The Imp cackled loudly as he rose to his feet, blood streaming from the back of his head, his mouth was split open and more red fluid flowed out of his punctured nose.

“Gladly.”

Green eyes widened with shock.

In the Groom’s hands was the crossbow already fitted with a black bolt.

It only took two short seconds.

One… Two…

_Thunk!_

* * *

Breathing heavily, the Groom stood over The Imp’s lifeless body, the crossbow bolt lodged straight between the dwarf’s lopsided green eyes that were still wide open, gazing blankly at where the Groom had stood on the other end of the room.

The Groom reached down, a foot on The Imp’s neck for support, as he pulled out the arrow from the dead dwarf’s skull. Blood and brain matter gushed from the gaping hole, staining the white carpet a deep red.

But there was no satisfaction on the Groom’s face. Instead, there was a look of calm composure that hid the rage that roared within his chest. His jaw slightly trembled as he looked down at the Imp with his cold grey eyes. Almost the exact same way he had been looked down on before cold steel pierced his heart.

He pulled the long thin strand of gold chains that dangled from around his neck and grunted as he tossed it to the side. Deep, red impressions from the chain were imprinted on the skin around his throat, black and blue bruises already starting to appear. His eyes were still on the dead Imp as he pulled out a small black flip phone from his back pocket. His thumb punching in a well-memorized number.

There were three long rings before the phone was finally picked up.

“Eddison’s Everyday Eatery, Serving the Best Brunches in Westeros since 1885, how can I help you today?” A gruff, bored voice grumbled into the Groom’s ear, the tone in stark contrast to the supposed cheery greeting.

“Combo number three. Over easy with a side of hash and...” The Groom’s boot toed the dead body in front of him, “A small sausage.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“J--?”

“Edd.”

More silence.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fucking dead?”

“Yeah.” came the simple response.

There was an audible sigh.

“It’s been six years since someone’s ordered a combo number three. You working again, I guess?”

The Groom sniffed, “I guess.”

A chuckle.

“Where am I sending this out to?”

The Groom gave the Imp’s address and then hung up.

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he glanced around what he supposed was the Imp’s study, before they both grandly fucked it up in their scuffle. Looking around, he found his handgun buried underneath a pile of broken shards of glass. Picking it up, he carefully tucked it into the waistband of his black jeans.

Two large bookcases lay broken on the side, large tomes lying open with pages ripped. The Groom could still feel the soreness in his back from when those bookcases had fallen on top of him. Broken vases and glass littered the carpeted floor, there were three bullet holes in the wall next to the unused fireplace. The 120-inch television hummed on the floor, its broken screen had cracks running through it like silver veins from where the Imp had slammed into it.

Blood was dripping down from his leg where the Imp had cut him with a pen knife, but it was barely a scratch, nothing to worry over.

He walked over towards a small side table that had been spared from their violent altercation. Atop it was a small selection of decanters filled with varying amounts of brown and gold liquid. The Groom chose one with an almost transparent golden hue and poured himself a small glass. Tossing the drink back in one gulp, allowing the alcohol to burn down his parched and bloodied throat, he wondered how long it had been since he had tasted good, strong whiskey mixed with his own blood.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he noticed a smear of red on it. His mouth was still bleeding from when the Imp had punched him.

His grey eyes spied a broken picture frame on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, glass fell to the ground, revealing a glossy photo of the Imp with two small blonde children, their laughing green eyes gazing out happily at him.

He dropped the frame back to the floor.

As he did, he noticed a small white business card that slipped from behind the photograph.

The Groom bent down to take a closer look, his fingers carefully reaching for the card amidst all the broken glass.

Emblazoned in the center of the white card was the black and white insignia of a spider.

The Groom smirked and tucked the card into his back pocket, next to his phone.

Just then, he heard the sound of tires screeching outside the house and car doors slamming shut. He quickly straightened up and his right hand automatically went to the grip of his gun while his other hand tightened around the stem of the bloody crossbow arrow.

He waited patiently.

A few seconds passed before he heard the sound of heavy footfalls.

“J—?”

The Groom breathed a slow breath of relief at the sound of the familiar deep timbre.

He turned to see a tall man with a greying beard and beady eyes frowning at him.

“Davos.” The Groom greeted.

The older man nodded to him, “You’re looking good, for a dead man.”

The Groom tilted his head, “Thanks.”

Davos’ eyes wandered towards the dead dwarf on the floor.

“That him?”

“Aye.”

The grey-haired man nodded again, then he gave a shrill whistle.

Four burly men carrying large backpacks and suitcases of equipment strolled into the broken, blood-stained room.

Davos walked up to the Groom shaking his head, “It’s like seeing an actual ghost. Really living up to the name, aren’t ya?”

Saying nothing, the Groom reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out a gold coin engraved with the sigil of a three-headed dragon.

“Tell Edd I said hello.” The Groom murmured as he tossed the gold coin up in the air.

Davos easily caught it with his left hand and smirked, “Just got a bunch of these gold dragons lying around?”

“Saved some for a rainy day.”

The Groom made his way towards the doorway when he stopped abruptly.

“Daddy?”

A small blond-haired boy was standing at the doorway clad in blue pajamas, behind him was his equally blonde twin sister dressed in a pink nightgown, hugging a stuffed lion in her arms. Teary green eyes gazing up at the Groom. The exact same shade of green that stared down at him the night he was murdered.

“What happened to Daddy? Is he hurt?” The boy asked in a soft whimper as he looked at his father still lying dead on the floor.

The Groom could hear Davos walking towards them, but he held up his hand as a signal to stop. Davos paused in his steps, looking on curiously as his men started to drag the dead body, stuffing it into a black body bag. The grey-eyed assassin took a deep breath and then calmly knelt down on one knee so that he was at eye-level with the young boy.

“What's your name?” The Groom asked.

The boy hesitated.

“It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.” The Groom said in a gentle voice.

“Jaime.” The boy answered.

“Hi, Jaime. My name is J—. How old are you?”

The boy chewed on his lip, fear in his eyes, “I’m…I’m five.”

The Groom nodded slowly, “Five. You’re tall for a boy of five.”

Grey eyes turned towards the girl who scowled at him as she took a step back.

“That your sister?”

“That's Cersei. My _twin_ sister.”

“I had a sister too.” The Groom commented, his jaw tightening, “She would have had her own little girl who would be about your age by now. But they were both taken from me. If someone took Cersei from you, Jaime, what would you do to get her back?”

“Anything.” Jaime answered, “Dad said we should anything for the people we love.”

“And you love your sister, don’t you Jaime?”

“Yes. I love my dad, too.” Jaime answered, his little chin wobbling.

The Groom rose to his feet, “I’m sorry you had to see him this way. I know you won’t understand this now, but your dad… he did a really bad thing to me many years ago. He took away my family and bad things happen to people who hurt my family. No matter what anyone tells you, believe me when I say that what happened to your dad tonight, he deserved every last bit of it.”

There was a slight growl in his voice as he finished his sentence and the children backed away from him in fear.

But he loomed over them and his expression softened slightly as he held out the crossbow bolt to the small boy. Steeling himself with all the might that a five-year old could manage, the boy reached out a trembling hand and took the arrow from him.

“I want you both to remember this night. When you’re older and stronger and smarter… if you still want to hurt me for what I did to your father, you come and find me. I’ll be waiting.”

The Groom looked over his shoulder, “It was good to see you, Davos.”

“You as well.” Davos responded, a look of intrigue on his face, “What are you going to do about them?”

Cold grey eyes peered back, “I don’t hurt kids.”

In a few quiet steps, the Groom disappeared behind a corner and without another sound he was gone.

Vanished, like the ghost that he was.

_The Imp once told me, “Call me a drunk, call me a dwarf, call me a monstrous heathen but never say that I never pay back what I owe. A Lannister always pays his debts, even if he has to mow down a few motherfuckers to do it.”_

_Well, Tyrion Lannister owed me a huge debt. A life for a life. And I came to collect it in full._

_He was a clever bugger. He could even tell a good joke every once in a while._

_But he was no liar._

_He didn’t know where Sam was… but he did know something else._

_He said that she was alive._

_My Bride… my wife… my love…_

_If she really was alive somewhere, I have to find her._

_And I know just the person who would know exactly where she would be._

_Another name to cross off my list._

_Another pretentious asshole who decided it was a good idea to fuck my life over._

_Another bastard who thought he could escape my vengeance unscathed._

_He knows I'm coming for him._

_Good._

_I want him to know. I want them all to know. Especially Sam..._

_But first things first._

_I had to find... The Spider._

_~~THE IMP, TYRION LANNISTER~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based this chap on the Vernita Green vs The Bride scene as well as the cleanup crew scene in John Wick.  
> Still blurring out Jon's name coz I think I'm cool like that.
> 
> Jaime and Cersei are Tyrion's twin kids, yes. 
> 
> I had a whole backstory of Tyrion - about how he's a retired assassin selling cars coz his dad disowned him and his wife left him.  
> But then realized it made the writing tedious and it caused some weird plot holes so for now, Tyrion retired from assassin business but old habits die hard and he still keeps his gold chains with him.
> 
> Okay! I will add more notes as I think about it, but this should be it. 
> 
> Watch out for the storm of blessed fics that will fill up the tag soon! YAY!


End file.
